Eye of the Wind (17 page)

‘Before we go into that, why don’t you give me a progress report on all your schemes? Have you made any progress during my absence?’

‘Indeed, I think you will be surprised, Mr Rogers.’

He was clearly impressed by the number of trees that had been felled and moved to the collection area. ‘Is a figure brought to you at the end of each day?’

‘No, not exactly.’ She hesitated, then decided it would be easier to tell him the truth. ‘The fact is, Mr Rogers, if the packet is to be finished quickly, few men can be spared from the yard. The five working in the woods must concentrate on felling and stripping. I borrowed two draught horses from the farm to move the logs, and the stable boy is driving one of them. The other is a more difficult beast, and requires a firmer hand, so …’ She faltered, regretting her impulsive honesty, and glanced away from his gathering frown.

‘Miss Tregonning, you cannot be telling me that –?

‘I am doing what is necessary, Mr Rogers, that is all. My groom is at this moment informing Mr Nankivell that his wagons may begin collecting first load of logs at his earliest convenience. Tom Ferris, foreman at the yard, has sold several sacks of oak bark to the village fishermen. The rest is being offered to the tannery. Also I have learnt from my groom that a local gentleman is interested in purchasing my father’s hunters. I have instructed him that any interested parties should contact you. Oh, and by the way, I have set the price high to allow for negotiation.’

His brows had climbed higher and higher up his forehead during her recital. Now he shook his head, and gave a bark of laughter. ‘Miss Tregonning, I am astonished. Astonished, and I have to admit, awed.’

Surprise, delight, and a hint of pride swelled in Melissa’s chest.

‘To say you have been busy is something of an understatement.’ The lawyer drummed his fingers lightly on the paper-strewn surface of the open bureau. ‘If I surmise correctly, you wish me to act on your behalf – in the temporary absence of your brother – regarding the sale of the wood bark, your father’s horses, and so on?’

Melissa nodded. ‘If you would be so kind.’

‘It will be my pleasure, Miss Tregonning. In the circumstances I shall defer your repayment of my loan until Mr Nankivell and the tannery have made
their
first payments. My fees for the additional work will not be unreasonable and I’m sure repayment at that time will cause you less difficulty then than it would now. Naturally I will ensure a detailed record is kept of all transactions made on your behalf, and a copy will be sent to you at the end of each month, if that is acceptable?’

‘Indeed, Mr Rogers. I am most grateful. I will use the money from my jewellery to repay Mr Vincent, and reduce the outstanding debts owed to the yard’s suppliers.’

‘That would indeed be wise. However, will you permit me to make one or two suggestions?

She regarded him warily. But when he raised his brows, clearly awaiting her reply, it dawned on her that his question had been entirely serious. ‘Of c-course. Please.’

‘Firstly, I think it might be wise if I were to review the figures relating to Mr Vincent’s loan, just so we may be quite certain the interest has not been overestimated. I do not doubt that gentleman’s honesty. But in matters of finance one cannot be too careful. A maxim I recommend you to adopt, Miss Tregonning. Once I have checked all is as it should be, I will make the repayment on your behalf and send you a signed receipt of settlement, if that is acceptable?’

‘Perfectly.’

He gave a brief nod. ‘Secondly, rather than deposit the jewellery money in the bank where Mr Williams might consider it a redemption of your father’s debt, I believe it would be more sensible to allow it to remain here in my safe, where you will have access to it.’

‘Can I do that?’ Melissa felt her eyes widen.

‘Miss Tregonning, it is yours. You may do with it whatever you wish.’

‘In that case, Mr Rogers, I accept your offer with gratitude. Naturally, I intend to repay the bank as quickly as possible, but –’

‘The amount and frequency of repayments must be at a time of
your
choosing,’ he finished smoothly. ‘I understand perfectly. In the meantime –’ he picked up a sheet of thick paper and handed it to her ‘– you will see each item of jewellery is listed, plus the amount it fetched.’

Melissa caught her breath and her heart leapt as she scanned the paper. ‘I can hardly believe –’ She raised her eyes. ‘Mr Rogers, I don’t know what to say. I never dreamt … Of course, I was hopeful, but I never could have expected … Thank you so much. You don’t know what this means.’

‘Oh, I believe I do, Miss Tregonning. Had our discussions during your last visit to this office failed to impress, then what you have achieved since then has left me in no doubt of your determination. Now.’ His manner grew brisk. ‘Doubtless you have incidental expenses to meet.’ Reaching into a small drawer in the bureau, he withdrew a small kid purse. ‘I trust this will be sufficient until your next visit. Should you require more, you have only to ask.’

‘Thank you.’ Blessing his foresight and his tact, she reached for the purse and would simply have put it into her bag, a black velvet pouch drawn in with a black satin ribbon.

He stopped her with a gesture. ‘Please count it, Miss Tregonning.’

‘Oh but –’

‘You will be signing a receipt,’ he reminded. ‘You must always check.’

After counting and signing, Melissa put the purse and both folded papers into her bag and rose to her feet, extending her hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Rogers. With all my heart.’

Taking her hand, he bowed over it, creaking faintly. ‘Your servant, ma’am. I trust you will not be offended if I confess I have never had dealings with a lady of such enterprise.’

Her lips twitched. ‘I hope you do not find it too uncomfortable?’

He smiled. ‘Miss Tregonning, it is an education as rewarding as it was unexpected.’

Hocking was waiting with the gig. As soon as she was settled, he clicked his tongue and the horse broke into a smart trot.

‘How did you get on with Mr Sibley’s groom?’ Melissa enquired.

‘Just as I expected, miss. ‘He said the price was too high. But I just shrugged and told him never mind as the word had got around and other gentlemen was showing interest. ’Course, then he starts begging me to hold them off till he’d had a chance to speak to his master.’ Hocking’s eyes narrowed in a grin of satisfaction. ‘Deal’s as good as done, miss.’

As they headed home Melissa reviewed the progress she was making. Bees droned lazily over tall foxgloves, and hedgerows laced with white convolvulus. At the edge of the road, young fronds of bright green bracken uncurled. Blue harebells, yellow agrimony, pinkish-white yarrow, and purple scabious brightened grassy banks and ditches, and the air was fragrant with meadowsweet.

As the sun’s warmth seeped into her bones, for the first time in weeks Melissa allowed herself to relax. It really did look as though everything was going to be all right. 

Chapter Fourteen

The following morning brought even better news: a letter from Aunt Lucy to say that her mother was showing slight signs of improvement. That this took the form of Addey twice coming upon her mistress “weeping fit to break her heart” filled Melissa with dismay. How could Aunt Lucy possibly imagine that to be improvement?

But, after several minutes’ anxious reflection, she was able to accept the truth of her aunt’s assertion that emotions frozen by shock and grief had at last begun to thaw. Picturing her mother’s abject misery, her own eyes filled in sympathy. Blinking hard, for she could not spare the time to be weak and self-indulgent, she set the letter aside and glanced at the others.

One was addressed in Aunt Louisa’s bold scrawl. She left it. The third gave her a start as she recognised Robert’s writing. Swiftly breaking the seal, she unfolded the sheet. The date showed it to have been written on the 9th March: almost four months ago. Why had it taken so long to get here? Of course, it was unlikely to have been sent the same day it was written. Robert might have had to wait weeks for the ship’s mail to be taken ashore, or collected by a passing packet-brig.

She skimmed through the close lines of small, neat script, noted Sir Edward Pellew’s name, read that he had been in action against the French, but little of it registered. All she could think of was that if Robert’s letter had got through at last, then she might soon hear from George.

Finding it impossible to concentrate, she refolded the letter to read later. It occurred to her that not so long ago a letter from Robert would have been the highlight of her week. She would have read and re-read it with her atlas close at hand, the easier to trace the movements of his ship.

Her life now was so different, and bore no resemblance to her life then. Her new responsibilities made such demands that she could summon little interest for what might be happening in the Channel.

Taking a deep breath, recognising as she did so that contact of any kind with Aunt Louisa required her to mentally brace herself, she picked up the remaining letter once more. It was an invitation to a picnic the following afternoon. Though the prospect did not fill her with enthusiasm, her first inclination, for the sake of peace, was to accept. Then she read on.

‘… You have shut yourself away for long enough. An observance of what is proper is one thing, but complete withdrawal from even close family shows an excess of sensibility and I cannot think it healthy. Naturally you miss your father, as indeed we all do, but life must go on. It is of the utmost importance that your behaviour at this sad time does not give rise to rumour and speculation. To be labelled reclusive must damage even further your prospects of marriage. You know that I have only your good at heart when I point out that you have difficulties enough already.’

Melissa’s hand clenched, crushing the sheet. She stood up so abruptly that her chair almost fell over.

‘Is everything all right, miss?’ Lobb enquired sharply.

‘My esteemed aunt –’ she began furiously, then caught herself.

‘Ah,’ said Lobb, and tactfully turned away to the sideboard.

Gathering up the other letters, she started toward the door, pausing as she drew level with him. ‘I know you will be glad to hear that my mother is beginning to show signs of recovery.’

‘Oh miss, that is indeed good news. Do you know when she might be coming home?’

Melissa shook her head. ‘I don’t think it will be for a while yet, but Aunt Lucy is convinced a corner has been turned.’

‘I’m delighted to hear it, miss. With your permission I shall impart the good news to the rest of the household.’

‘Thank you, Lobb. I’d be most grateful.’

He opened the door for her. ‘At least that’s one weight off your mind.’

Passing him, Melissa made a wry face. ‘I wish the others might be so easily lifted.’

In her father’s study, she sat at his desk. Her initial intention was to dash off a swift note thanking her aunt for the invitation but regretting that she must decline. She would claim that, as her aunt surmised, her high colour had indicated the development of a summer cold and it would be unfair of her to risk spreading the infection.

But even as she dipped the pen she knew she could not do it. She would have to go. Putting down the pen, she smoothed the crumpled sheet. It was plain as she read on that Aunt Louisa’s concern was less for her than for public opinion.

‘… By rejecting the support of those who wish only to comfort and advise you at this tragic time, you invite society to accuse us, your family, of neglect. I have already heard whispers of astonishment that your mother is not facing her loss with the fortitude expected from one of her breeding. You are not alone in your mourning, Melissa, and family gatherings cannot be considered going into society. I shall put my trust in your loyalty and good sense, and look forward to seeing you.’

Eyes closed, teeth clenched, Melissa battled anger and intense frustration. Then, taking up the pen, she wrote her acceptance. After folding and sealing the sheet, she left it on the tray in the hall and went upstairs to change out of her morning gown into her working clothes.

Collecting the basket containing her lunch from Mrs Betts, she went to the stable yard. The shires were tacked up and ready, and John was tying Duchess’s nosebag to the harness.

‘Good morning,’ she greeted them.

Man and boy glanced round, chorusing, ‘Morning, miss.’

Captain shifted restlessly as Hocking checked the straps and chains, and the groom growled at him to stand still.

‘What’s the matter with him this morning?’

‘Dunno, miss. Daft side out, he is.’ Hocking grumbled.

Setting her basket down, Melissa approached the huge horse, talking to him in soothing murmurs while she looked first at his eyes and nose. He stood docile while she ran expert hands over him. ‘He looks all right. Did you find any sores? Any heat in his legs?’

Hocking shook his head. ‘Nothing. You sure you want to take him, miss? He isn’t hisself. Got one on ’un today, he have.’

‘He’ll be fine once he starts work, won’t you, fellow?’ She rubbed the white blaze that stretched from forelock to muzzle, and the horse tossed his huge head, jingling the harness. ‘Speaking of work, we had better get going. Will you give me a leg up, please?’

They reached the clearing in time to see the final log of the first load lifted onto Mr Nankivell’s heavy four-wheeled wagon. As it pulled away, the team of horses straining under the weight, Gabriel turned. Catching sight of her, he came forward, saluting.

‘Morning, miss.’

Her rebellious heart quickened as it did whenever she saw him. No other man of her acquaintance had affected her in this manner despite their indisputably greater eligibility. Though his manner and greeting were respectful, she glimpsed a brief flare of warmth in his eyes and knew it was echoed in her own. ‘Good morning, Gabriel.’

‘The driver will be back for a second load this afternoon.’

She gave a brief nod of acknowledgement, her grip tightening on Captain’s bridle as he jerked his head and swung his quarters sideways. ‘Be still,’ she chided softly.

Gabriel’s glance flicked to the horse. But, aware of his responsibilities, Melissa didn’t want to delay him.

‘Where would you like me to start?’

‘One moment, miss, and I’ll show you.’ He moved past her to the boy, pointing as he issued directions. Nodding, John led Duchess off to where Chirp was waiting. Returning, Gabriel fell into step beside her.

‘Two stripped boles are ready to be pulled out. Ned is clearing the débris and will chain them for you. Billy is helping me with a large sycamore. Once that’s down we’ll have finished in this area.’

‘What happens then?’

‘We move further in. That will mean extending the track.’

Melissa nodded. ‘How big is the sycamore?’

‘About ninety feet high and perhaps two and a half in diameter.’

‘It must be very old.’ She bit her lip. He must know what he was doing.

‘It is. And showing signs of disease,’ he explained quietly. She felt her colour rise. Could he read her mind? ‘Better it’s dropped now while most of the wood can be salvaged. If it’s left and brought down by the winter gales, there will be a lot more destruction.’

She darted him a swift, apologetic smile. ‘You’re right, of course. Good luck.’

It was only as she led Captain away that she realised how deeply she dreaded the possibility that he might one day leave.

During the next two hours, against the slow, rhythmic
thunk
of the two axes biting alternately into the huge trunk, she twice passed John and Duchess. It was the first time the entire team had worked in the same area. Captain’s restlessness kept her on her guard. But once a log was chained to his harness he appeared to settle down.

She drove him from behind, walking slightly to one side and using the long traces to guide him. But going in toward the logs with the chains looped up he was jittery and hard to handle. So she held either his bridle, or the reins close beneath his chin, though his frequent head tossing made her arm and shoulder ache.

She was leading him past some shrubbery when a pair of wood pigeons suddenly exploded out of the bushes in a violent flutter of wings. Snorting in panic, Captain reared back on his haunches, almost pulling her arm from its socket, his forelegs flailing. Fortunately Melissa had a firm grip and jerked down hard, stepping smartly back from the plunging hooves.

‘Steady, now. Steady. It’s all right,’ she crooned, trying to sound calm and reassuring despite the eye-watering pain in her wrenched shoulder. Nostrils distended, his eyes showing white behind the blinkers, Captain snorted, champing on the bit as foam flew from the corners of his mouth.

‘What’s the matter with you, you silly old thing?’ She stroked his nose, tightening her grip on the bridle as the sound of the axes ceased, and Gabriel’s warning shout echoed through the wood.

After a loud groan, the splintering cracks echoed like gunshots. Then came the crashing thud as the sycamore fell. The earth vibrated and Captain flinched. But though tremors ran through him he remained still as she continued to stroke, talking softly. When the sounds of axes and saws resumed she coaxed Captain forward.

The fallen sycamore was a giant: some of its branches as big as whole trees. There was no possibility of hauling it out in one piece. Even cut into sections, the weight of each would be as much as one horse could manage.

Though Gabriel had lined up its fall with care, the size and spread were so great that it had inevitably damaged other trees on its way down. Sunlight streamed through the wide gap in the canopy and Melissa glimpsed blue sky and puffs of fluffy white cloud. A short distance away, Billy was cutting down a partly uprooted alder presently leaning across the path. Ned and Chirp were already hard at work on the sycamore’s branches.

Standing at Captain’s head, she coaxed the huge horse backward, toward a roped bundle of branches from the trees felled earlier that morning. Hearing her, Zeb glanced up then straightened, ready to help. But Gabriel was closer. Telling the others to carry on, he dropped his axe and strode forward to release the looped-up chains.

Captain twitched, swinging his hindquarters sideways. Slapping his rump, Gabriel pushed him back. As he bent and picked up one of the chains, Billy cried out. But the warning was lost as the alder fell and another tree, uprooted by the falling sycamore, gave a rending creak and toppled across the crown.

The violent rustling and shaking of foliage were too much for Captain. With a shrill whinny he reared up, throwing Melissa backwards and tearing free of her grip. She tripped, lost her balance, and fell with a breath-stopping thump.

Zeb tried to reach the other rein but couldn’t get past the foliage of the fallen tree. Desperately scrambling to her feet, Melissa saw Gabriel hurl himself forward to grab the loose rein, wrapping it round his hand for greater purchase as he dug his heels into the soft ground. She wanted to shout at him to let go, but was terrified of scaring the huge horse even more.

Thoroughly frightened, Captain reared, pawing the air as he fought the rein. One of the chains flicked like a whiplash, catching Gabriel a glancing blow as the horse lunged forward. The rein tightened. Unable to free himself, Gabriel was pulled off his feet. Melissa could only watch as, face down and dangerously close to the horse’s massive hooves, he was dragged over the débris-strewn earth.

‘Billy!’ Melissa screamed, deafened by the thunder of her heartbeat, her mouth dust-dry with fear. ‘Go that way! Try to head him off!’ Hoisting up her skirts, she raced after the runaway horse. Though it could not have been more than a few seconds, it felt like an eternity. Then, as Billy charged in from the side, John and Duchess came up from the clearing.

His path blocked, Captain’s headlong dash slowed just enough for Melissa to hurl herself forward and grab his bridle. Using strength she didn’t know she possessed, she forced him to a halt.

Both were trembling uncontrollably. Captain’s nostrils were distended, his eyes wild. Melissa gasped breath into her tortured lungs. The others arrived at a run. Billy stopped beside Melissa and they stared at the figure sprawled face down and unmoving on the trampled earth.

Grabbing Billy’s hand, Melissa clamped it onto the bridle. ‘Hold him.’ Her heart hammering painfully, she dropped to her knees beside Gabriel. Carefully unwinding the leather rein from his fist, she bit back a wince at the livid bruise down the inside of his forearm.

She looked up at the uncertain, anxious men. Gabriel had organised and directed them, and now they were rudderless. Everyone had looked to him. Now they were looking at her: as if she would know what to do. Hysteria bubbled, heady and dangerous. She fought it. She had to be strong for his sake.

‘Help me –’ Tremulous and cracking with strain, her voice was almost inaudible. She coughed. ‘Help me turn him over.’

His eyes were closed, his face smeared with blood and dirt, bits of leaf and twig entangled in his hair. His boots and breeches were ingrained with earth, and through the rips in his filthy shirt she could see blood-stippled welts and grazes streaking his skin.